If today's post had a theme... which there is no reason it couldn't, so I guess it will. The theme is dirt. Mud. Clay. Crap. Dust. Filth. You name it, I've had it on me, or in my mouth, or in proximity to me at some point in the past month. =)
Before I continue, I’ve been putting a lot of thought into what type of blogger I want to be. I’ve never done anything like this before, keeping a journal. I tried multiple times as a girl growing up. I’d buy a super cool hello kitty journal, write in it for about a week then call it quits. I don’t want that to happen with this. So please harass me if you feel me beginning to neglect this blog. Which form of harassment is up to you.
Furthermore, I’ve been torn on what type of tone to take in my writing. I’ve read other Peace Corps blogs and good God some of them are so boring. Sometimes I have inappropriate (and in my opinion High-Larious) perspectives on things and I want to be able to be myself and write it all down without PG censorship. It wouldn’t be right to have a blog for my friends and a tamer blog for family members. So I’m going to just put it all out there and hope you all still love me anyways when I get back (this means you Grandmas, both mommy skip and abuela chuchu) Besides, if I reeeeeally upset anyone, it’s not like any of you can even reach me. Suckas! Also don’t want to worry anyone back home if I have a bad day and vent about it on here. I will have my cynical days, days where I exaggerate things. Please don’t immediately go to kayak.com and begin looking for the fastest way to get me home. Everything will be okay. I wasn’t sure of this at first if I was going to be honest. The first few days my emotions felt like a Mexican jumping bean. (I’m not racist, that is a real thing, I swear) But today is my one month anniversary with the Peace Corps, and I’m here to say I’m doing great!
Okay, back to the dirt. Today I had a “I hope Africa doesn’t turn me native” moment. I looked down and saw a reddish brown smudge on my calf and thought… “is that shit or mud?” and while my immediate next thought a month ago would have been “where the eff is some soap and water, asap!” all I managed to think today was “eh, whatever it is, I’ll get at it later if I find some water” And people I wish I could call that my filth low… Also, come to think of it… that wasn’t the first time I had to ask myself that exact same question. PREFACE: about 80 percent of the roads in this godforsaken place are just slick clay mud. And something tells me 80 is too generous of a number. Another Preface: It rains all the fucking time here. I walk to training every morning in industrial second hand rain boots I bought for 14,000 shillings, (about $5) my North Face rain jacket, and a poncho in my backpack just in case. To have anything less than this would be asking for trouble. Where was I?... oh yes, shit or mud. So my first week at the training site I didn’t have my boots yet and I bit it big time. (grandma, that means I fell. Hard. On my ass.) and the mud here is like melted peanut butter, just thick and slick. My skirt, legs, and everything else was covered. And God bless those little children, they didn’t laugh at me, but just kept on shouting “see you Mzungu!” (if you don’t understand, please go read my first post. Why the eff wouldn’t you read these bad-boys in order? Also note I have learned the correct spelling of Mzungu) Anyways, I got home and tossed my skirt and shirt in a basin to start soaking. It wasn’t until later that I took off my underwear before bucket bathing (I’ll save that little gem for the next entry) and saw a giant brown stain covering 60% of the backside of my drawers. At first I panicked and thought I must have gotten some super form of diarrhea where you lose any, and all, control of your anal sphincter and you ghost crap your own pants. (Because apparently this is the type of life I live now, where this is a functional thought) Upon leaning in and sniffing (you would have done it too bitches) I recalled my earlier splash in the mud. This mud made it through my jean skirt, thick bike shorts and my underwear. Touché Mud. Touché.
Wow, at first glance, this long post looks like I really accomplished telling you all about how my life is going here. And instead I managed to tell you about the two times I thought I had brown butt fudge on me. I’ll try harder next time… maybe.
Love you all and miss you! Mzungu Out!
P.S. Hope you appreciated the font color.